Those of you who are not on Twitter or Facebook or Cre8Buzz (and really, if you’re not on Cre8Buzz, what exactly are you waiting for?) may not know that I got suckered into stepped up to the plate for my kid and volunteered to coach his Little League team.

There are just a few issues with this.

I hate other people’s kids. Not all of them, mind you, but for the most part, people’s kids are shitheads. Two of the boys on the team hate me. Well, women. They hate women. How do I know? When I pull them in to talk to them about respect, and how they talk to me, they say, “Um, where’s our real coach?” Really? I am, dude. “No, you’re the team MOM.” No you little fucking cocksucker, I am the COACH. And I will sit your ass out in a motherfucking heartbeat if you roll your little womanizing eyes at me one more time. I Double Dog Dare you to try me on this one.

I hate other kids parents. What do the jerk-off dads of the asshole kids do through this whole thing? Stand there. Giggling. It’s going to be a long season.

I have played exactly ZERO baseball games in my whole life. This gives me the slightest little handicap in the whole “teaching other people” department. Fortunately, I am a fast study. And they gave me a handbook.

I can’t throw a ball for shit.

I am not quite strong enough to properly lock the equipment shed, which is 15,765 years old and made of lead and the eenciest bit warped. My angle for this? Get there early, earlier than ANYONE, and unlock it, set up my field, and play dumb blond when the other coach says, “But we’re the home team. We’re supposed to set up.” Ooooo, I didn’t know! Oopsie. (This is where the boobie shirt really pays off)

Me? In a Baseball cap? Like Britney without any makeup on. Like Jack Nicholson in the morning. Like the kid from Mask. Not. Cool.

I have three kids. One of which is two. Only one of which is on the team. Baby wearin’ is frowned upon in the middle of a baseball field during play.

Did I mention that I’ve never played baseball before?

I have the tiniest little potty mouth problem. Just sayin’.

Since I am a girl, the moms of the kids on the team think it’s totally okay to come up to me and ask about the baby, and tell me how proud they are of their son, and how though all the rest of the kids are total shits, well, see how good my boy is being and aren’t I a great parent and my isn’t that a low-cut top you have on and do you knit because I just got this new pattern and shut the hell up, woman. I’m busy over here.

I have a nasally voice. I can’t help it; I was born that way and you try living in Philadelphia during your formative years. It’s not exactly the hottest of accents. Point is, I don’t exactly command attention. Maybe I should go for the Fran Drescher thing. NO ONE can ignore that evilness.

Really, I’ve only ever even once watched a baseball game start to finish, and I am pretty sure I was fairly intoxicated and quite possibly making out with someone through most of it.

And the biggest problem of all? The real kicker? I am, and please don’t repeat this, I am kind of liking it. As in, enjoying it. Shitty kids aside (I have awesome stink-eye; that’ll be nipped in the bud) it’s kind of, well, err, um, fun?

Someone get me Chrysler on the phone. It appears I’ll be needing that minivan after all.

See all the Thursday Thirteens here.

Today, I present for your reading pleasure, thirteen of the 5,671 injuries my children have sustained over the past 10 years and my corresponding reaction, on a scale of 1-10, one being, “Eh.” and 10 being, “Ouch, my head just exploded.”

1. Faceplant at pool on concrete. Cracks concrete, cracks kid. Reaction? 3. Popsicles makes everything better.

2. Attempt to channel Buzz Lightyear. Rips half face off. Reaction? 2. It was really funny. You had to be there.

3. Golf club to head. By brother. Reaction? 1. Time outs for everyone!

4. Baby tumbles down 6 concrete steps. Readjusts, makes another tumble down 6 MORE concrete steps. While dad was, um, err…busy. Making a morning deposit, you know? Reaction? 2. I was a work. It was too good to not laugh at.

5. Retaliatory baseball bat to head. You know, for the golf club. SIX MONTHS LATER. Reaction? -2. That shit was hilarious.

6. 2 year old gets tossed about 8 feet in the air by neighbor and then failed in every way to get CAUGHT by said neighbor. Concussion, hematoma ensued. Reaction? 6. Total freak out, no hospital. And still went to work that night.

7. Fall from playground at stupid restaurant. Total concussion. Awful concussion. Reaction? 2. Until an hour later, at a movie, when I had to catch 15 tons of vomit shooting out of that kid right when ET started talking. Then the reaction? Like, 10. I. Caught. Vomit. Hey, it was our first concussion. I had no idea what they were.

8. Captain Asthma! spends a week in the fancy wing of Children’s Hospital due to absolute failure to do anything resembling breathing. Reaction? 8. A totally appropriate 8.

9. First kid born with crooked urethra. Reaction? 10. Meltdown 10. The world just ended 10. Appropriate reaction? Um, 0.

10. Kid biffs it on bike. Blood everywhere. Rocks embedded in skin. Reaction? 1. Starts in with the ‘You know, when I was a kid we just had to pee on it’ or some shit. Stops self. Upps reaction to 2.

11. Baby gets croup. Third baby gets croup. Third baby after 6 smaller siblings gets croup. Third baby after 6 smaller siblings and after reading Anne of Green Gables 15 bazillion times gets croup. Reaction? 14. $3,000 and one night in the ER later, lesson learned.

12. Kid slices finger open on Christmas day with brand new cub scouts pocket knife. Reaction? 1. Wipes knife off, hands it back. Soaks shirt drenched in blood, gets back to the cookies.

13. Toddler gets mowed down at gymnastics by another toddler in a swing. Eyes roll back in head. No cries, no nothing. Instantly falls asleep. Stays asleep for almost an hour, while being poked and tickled. Reaction? 50.

I have never been so freaked out by anything in my whole life. The nurse in the ER kept coming and asking me if I was ok. This was, hands down, our worst injury thus far. She was not right. And this was, hands down, my most inappropriate reaction to any of the injuries. Funny thing is, she was totally out until she spied with her little eye a baby playhouse in the corner of the ER waiting room. And then? The kid was Right. As. Rain.

She’s fine, and I am recovering nicely, too. She really doesn’t want to go to gymnastics anymore, either. So I have that going for me, which is nice.

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(Over dinner last night)